


The Fever

by Storybookwriter



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Fever, Fluff, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Whump, a fever fic that has nothing to do with pon farr, and if i have to read another pregnancy fic i will actually scream, because no one else will write it, i'm so done with everything, if i want something then i'm gonna have to make it, sick t'pol, t'pol whump, this character is so whumpable, this is my contribution, to star trek enterprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storybookwriter/pseuds/Storybookwriter
Summary: How does Archer react when there's a sick Vulcan on the Bridge?





	The Fever

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted a sick!fic with T'Pol there are sick!fics for literally every single character in Enterprise except for the resident Vulcan so I've decided to change that. Also, I ship Archer/T'Pol so that should be kept in mind before reading. I just really wanted a T'Pol whump fic that was not her pregnant, thank you very much.

To most of the crew, it seemed that Sub-Commander T’Pol was invincible. Her biology, forged from millennia of natural selection to handle Vulcan’s rigid climate seemed to be superior to a human’s in every given way. Archer had seen this first hand on many different occasions. Under stressful situations, he had seen her function past what would have been limitations of a human. Under situations of stress, he had seen her go days, sometimes weeks at a time without eating or sleeping. He had always given her time off to recover but, somehow, she was always prepared for her shift the next morning as those restless weeks were but a distant dream. Well, this time was an exception, apparently. He had noticed it since she first slouched onto the Bridge that morning.  
Okay, maybe “slouch” was not the correct word. But in his defence, a word for “slightly bent with subtle uneven steps” didn’t exist in the English dictionary. At least, as far as he knew. He’d have to ask Hoshi about that.  
T’Pol could taste the sweat on her lips. This heat was making it hard for her to concentrate. What was especially curious about it was that the temperature on the ship had not changed (she had confirmed that herself). The average room temperature of Vulcan was between 26 degrees and thirty degrees while both humans and Denobulans (and apparently Terrain canines) prefered temperatures between 20 and 25 degrees. There was no logical reason that she should be experiencing such heat.  
She tried, with some difficulty, to ignore the beads of sweat that trickled down her face and focus on her consul. Her vision was beginning to double and she found her fingers were missing the buttons  
She allowed a deep breath. She would have to meditate for a bit longer after the shirt The shift was only two hours away from ending. She would have to deal with the discomfort until then  
“Sub-commander, where is that scan?”  
Right. The scan.  
“I’m adjusting the resonance of the irregularities.”  
“Our scans detected no irregularities. Has there been a change?”  
T’Pol thought briefly that if she were human, she would have used more colourful language that Commander Tucker was famous for.  
“My apologies, Captain, I…” There was a hint of hesitance. “Misread the scans.”  
He received the scan from her before turning back to her, eyes narrowing.  
“Hey, you alright?”  
“Of course I am.”  
“It’s just,” Archer rested the now forgotten PADD on the arm of his chair. “It’s not like you to misread anything. Not to mention you’re looking kinda green.”  
From her peripheral vision, she could see a few crewmembers strain their necks to confirm for themselves the colour of the sub-commander’s complexion.  
“Vulcans have copper-based blood. Our blood causes our complexion to be green in colour.”  
“I’ve not seen anything quite like this. I suspect that if you were human, your face would be completely red.”  
“I am not human.”  
“Which is why I’m coming back to my original point which your face is quite green today.”  
Too green, he wanted to add though he could feel that he was already embarrassing her enough as it was.  
Archer had decided to keep one eye free for his science officer.  
She was shaking as if she was on Andoria but the lights of the Bridge were bouncing off the sheen of perspiration that coated her face. But she seemed to be as focused as she ever was. As the shift progressed he became more concerned about whether she could remain on her own two feet rather than complete the scans she had promised the end of the Alpha shift. Enough was enough. He couldn’t run a ship if his crew members were pushing themselves past their appropriate limitations.  
He pushed himself off his chair and had come up beside her to her station, pretending to analyse her calculations.  
“I want you to report to sickbay. Get Phlox to have a look at you.”  
“I assure you, Captain, that I am functioning adequately.”  
“T’Pol, you look like you’ve just finished running a marathon. I don’t pretend to be an expert in Vulcan biology but to us humans, it means that you’re sick.”  
There.  
He had said it.  
The elephant in the room -- or the elephant on the deck at least.  
There was some shuffling of feet as the rest of the bridge crew had gained a sudden interest in their stations.  
“My shift ends in a couple of hours. I’ll go to sickbay then.”  
A misplaced step caused a bit of a stumble and Archer had instinctively reached and grabbed her elbow.  
“If you keep this up, you will be dead in a couple of hours. And frankly, I don’t feel like explaining to the High Command why our only Vulcan crewmember is dead. No, I want you to go to sickbay. Now.”  
“Sir, I --”  
Archer had reached over and gripped T’Pol’s elbow and tugged her to the door.  
“That’s an order Sub-Commander. Don’t make me call Security to get you off the Bridge.”  
With a lingering look that could be compared with a glare, T’Pol turned on her heels and exited the Bridge. He returned to his seat and pressed the comm located on the armrest.  
“Bridge to Sickbay.”  
“Sickbay here, Captain.”  
“The Sub-Commander will be arriving at sickbay in a few minutes. I think she’s got a bit of a fever.”  
“Well, thank you for informing me. I’ll be expecting her.”  
~~  
His mind didn’t stray too far from his science officer for the remaining hours. His attempts to focus on the scans had proved futile as the numbers were slowly replaced by the image of an obviously sweating and shaking T’Pol. Did she make it to sickbay? She had nearly stumbled at her station. Was she passed out in the hall? No, someone would have definitely seen her and informed him  
He was more than happy when the Bridge crew for Beta shift began to slowly replace the crewmembers from Alpha shift.  
“Phlox.”  
Phlox had looked up from feeding one of many pets that Phlox had acquired during his stay on the Enterprise.  
“Ah Captain,” He put the creature back into its cage. “I bet you came here, wondering about the Sub-commander.”  
“Is she alright?”  
“It’s nothing serious I can assure you. But I’ve pulled her from her the duty roster for the rest of the week and possibly the next and I’ve sent her to her quarters.”  
“I didn’t know it took that long to get over a fever.”  
“Well, it’s not “a bit” of a fever.  
“She stumbled a bit and I grabbed her elbow to steady her. I didn’t feel anything.”  
“Captain, the average body temperature for a Vulcan is 33.33 degrees. Her temperature was pushing 35.5 during my checkup. And there is evidence that suggests that she’s been nursing that fever for the past few days.”  
There was a moment as Phlox allowed Archer to process the information.  
“You mean to tell me she was working on the bridge with the equivalent of a 40-degree fever for the last few days?!”  
“It did not maintain 35.5 degrees or else she would have fainted long before you ordered her to sickbay. I mean to say that the fever itself has been present and climbing for at least a few days. I’m surprised that she managed to remain relatively coherent. People are usually fully delirious by the time their fever hits 40.”  
“Is there a chance that whatever she caught is being spread around the ship?”  
“There’s no cause for concern on that matter, Captain. What she has can’t be caught.”  
“Then what is going on?”  
“She’s exhausted, Captain.”  
“Exhausted?”  
“Vulcans may be different from humans but that doesn’t mean that they’re invincible. She’s been putting the limitations of her Vulcan biology to the test for the last few months and she’s in desperate need of a rest.”  
“And she will. Tell her I will not accept her return unless she has fully recovered.  
~~  
The chimes of her quarters rang and she opened her eyes.  
“Come in.”  
The door hissed open at the command, revealing Captain Archer with a rather large bowl. Allowing her eyes to rest on the bowl for a split second before tilting her head, cocking an eyebrow. He too, took a moment to observe the candles situated in a circle around her.  
“T’Pol, what are you doing?”  
“Meditation.”  
“Don’t tell me that Vulcans can just meditate sickness away.” He said, placing the bowl on the bed-stand.  
“Negative, but we often find that meditation aids recovery.”  
He picked her up by the shoulders and lead her towards her bed.  
“Not to debunk the healing methods of your people, but I think sleep would preferable.”  
“Captain, I’m fine.”  
“The last time you said that, you were on the Bridge with the equivalent of a 40 degree fever. Forgive if I’m not exactly jumping at your word.”  
He picked up the bowl and disappeared into her bathroom. There was the sound running water before he reappeared, the bowl filled.  
“What are you doing?”  
“It’s an earth custom. In the early days, people would place damp cloths on the foreheads of sick people. It apparently helped to draw out the fever.” He explained wringing a cloth that had, until then, remained hidden from her sight.  
“Water is not as abundant on Vulcan as it is on earth. We use paste from the plomeek plant.”  
“Good thing you’re not on Vulcan right now then.”  
When the cloth rested on her forehead, she bit down a shiver.  
“Is this supposed to make me comfortable?”  
“It will in a few moments. Just relax  
~~~  
In sickbay, Phlox collected his hyposprays and began making his way through the corridors of the Enterprise. He stopped on C deck and rang the chimes.  
“Come in.”  
Phlox stopped short at the male voice that most certainly did not belong to T’Pol. Sure enough, the door hissed open revealing the Captain sitting on the ground, his back against the side of the bed. T’Pol, much to his satisfaction, was sleeping peacefully.  
“You got her to sleep,” Phlox said, entering her quarters.  
“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you.” He muttered stretching. “She can be especially stubborn when she’s sick.”  
“Oh, I’ve seen it many times. For aliens who have decided to embrace complete logic as their way of life, they make quite lousy patients.”  
Phlox took out his tricorder and did a quick scan.  
“Well her fever’s dropped a bit so that’s a good sign.” He then picked up the hyposprays and pressed them into her neck.  
“These should help with the other symptoms but nothing beats good rest and good food. Which reminds me,”  
He turned to Archer.  
“I’ve asked Chief to make some vegetable broth and it should be coming around in an hour and a half. If you could get her to eat some, that would be wonderful.”  
“Hey, hey!” He exclaimed, keeping his voice low. “I’m a captain! I have important things to do!”  
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Phlox waved his hand dismissively. “You always find time for the important things.” He smiled when Archer blanched. “Besides, you and me the only ones who can really order her around. And I think that she responds to you better.”


End file.
